The Wrong Way to Catch a Rake, page 22
‘I’m so, so sorry, Milly.’
‘Hush, love. I’m not. There is nothing in this world I want more than your happiness. Not a thing. And that damned fool makes you happy. We shall find a way to make this work. We are Zephyrs after all. There is nothing we cannot manage if we put our minds to it.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘About bloody time! Where the devil were you, Marcus?’
Marcus Endicott, Earl of Sherbourne and director of the Foreign Office’s agents, set down his hat and cane and raised one dark brow.
‘This is not quite the welcome I was expecting, Dom. Foolish of me, but I actually thought you might be a tad happy to see me.’
‘I’m ecstatic to see you, but I expected you yesterday!’
‘Ah. That was Mina’s fault. Colic. I wanted to see Lily and the children—your godchildren—settled comfortably with my family in Ravenna before I came to offer you my congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.’
Dominic flushed a little, but he was in no mood to be rebuked. Still, he went and poured Marcus a glass of wine as he answered.
‘Since I’ve been jilted I don’t need your damned congratulations.’
‘Ah. Then your pressing need to see me was not to impart the news?’
‘I knew you would hear of it the moment you docked in Ravenna. My pressing need was to get your approval to leave Venice.’
That caught Marcus’s attention. He eyed Dominic over the rim of his wine glass.
‘Trouble?’
‘Not that kind. I need to go after Phoebe, but I had to speak with you first. I was expecting you yesterday.’
‘Phoebe.’
‘Playing coy doesn’t suit you, Marcus. If you heard the news, I doubt you’ve forgotten the name of the woman I am engaged to.’
‘I was informed you were engaged to a Miss Brimford, lady’s companion.’
‘Phoebe Brimford, companion and niece of Lady Grafton.’
‘Indeed. In fact, you should count yourself lucky that I did hear the gossip. Otherwise I would not have been convinced to leave Lily and the children so precipitously. In all the years we have known each other and worked together, there have been occasions where you surprised me, Dominic. Never quite as much as when I disembarked and was met with the information of your engagement.’
‘Thank you. Before you lecture me, I should tell you that I intend to do my best to convince her to marry me. That may take a while. Until then I am on indefinite leave. Sebastian can manage here.’
‘And in Verona next month? A great deal is at stake there.’
‘A great deal is at stake right here. If she will have none of me...’ He paused and drew breath before continuing. ‘If I can’t even convince her to try, then I shall be there and do my best to keep an eye on the rats that will be gathering. But once you lot disperse back home I’m afraid I shall have to be off again.’
‘Where?’
‘Back to doing my best to convince her I’m worthy. Given my history, that might take a while.’
‘Yet you are confident you will succeed?’
‘Not in the least. But... Damn it, Marcus. I have to try. I can’t... It matters. She matters.’ The pain was rising again, choking him.
Damn. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Not yet at least. He went to pour himself a glass of wine as well. Marcus didn’t speak and Dominic was grateful for the chance to gather his slipping reins. When he could breathe again he turned to his friend and tried to smile, and instead of saying what he’d meant to, he said, ‘I matter.’
Marcus’s lids lowered, shielding the yellow-amber eyes, but he still didn’t speak, so Dominic continued.
‘You know me better than anyone, Marcus. You might very well be the only person who does know me. You know I don’t trust, I don’t want, and I damn well never love.’ He couldn’t stop the faint snarl of derision as he spat out that word. He wished it was all still true, but it wasn’t. ‘I am good at other things entirely. I act. I manage. I create what needs to be created to get the job done. That’s always been enough—more than enough for me.’
‘Not any more?’
‘I’m afraid not. I don’t know how it happened but she blew down my defences like Joshua’s trumpets. Something in me trusts her as much as I trust you, which is nothing short of insanity. And needs her. Not just that. I’ve never been happier making anyone happy. I would live to make her smile, to see her light up, to make her feel safe. Oh, hell. I sound like a besotted fool, but that’s the truth, Marc. I need to go after her.’
Marcus nodded slowly.
‘May I ask why she...ah...jilted you? Perhaps she had a wealthier heir to a dukedom in mind? Or perhaps she had objections on moral grounds?’
Dominic could not help smiling. ‘Neither. If it was merely moral rectitude and wealth she was after I rather think she could have snagged our old friend von Haas.’
‘Dear God. What a span of choice. So what was her objection, then?’
‘Aside from the fact that she probably does not care for me in the same way as I care for her, Phoebe has a problem...trusting people. With good reason. Her parents aren’t worthy of the name and all she has is her aunt and I cannot blame her for not wanting to risk herself on...on who I am, let alone who I present myself to be. She knows I’m not the drunkard I’ve convinced the world I am, but only because she’s convinced I’m either a thief or a rebel hiding under that mask. I need your approval to convince her I’m neither.’
‘Ah. Hence your impatience with my colicky delay. You plan to go after her and tell her what? The truth? Do you imagine a woman with trust issues will be assuaged by being told you are a spy? That you put your life at risk on a regular basis?’
Dominic winced. ‘I wasn’t thinking of telling her the spy part, at least not quite yet. I was thinking of beginning by telling her the nice part of the truth—that I work for the Foreign Office. It is slightly better than being a gambler or a thief, no?’
Marcus cleared his throat. ‘It is indeed. Did you mention she is intelligent?’
‘Smart as a whip. With a damned twisty mind.’
‘I see. So you plan to tell her that you work for the British Foreign Office, though no one in this gossip-ridden city knows that you are thus respectably employed. And she will have to weigh your claim against your behaviour and activities, which she has witnessed over all these weeks. Correct me if I am wrong, but I am merely trying to imagine the response of a suspicious, twisty-minded woman when you lay out that tale for her.’
‘But it’s the truth!’
‘In this particular case the truth shall mostly likely bite you on your arse and you know it, Dom. You wanted me here not merely because you wanted my permission to tell her half-truths, but because you need my advice.’
Dominic sank into an armchair, shoving his hands through his hair.
‘You’re right. But I can’t go after her unless I can tell her the truth, or at least some of it. I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t endanger you and any other agent, either. I don’t even know if it will make it better or worse. Who the devil would want to marry a spy? I could tell her I will leave all that behind me if she wants, but in truth I don’t know if she will... Want me, that is. Not beyond—’ he drew a deep breath ‘—not beyond the bedroom, that is.’
‘You think it is merely an attraction on her behalf? An infatuation?’
‘I don’t know. Not an infatuation, precisely. I know she likes me. There is something...natural between us. If anything, I was attracted to her first.’
Marcus’s brows rose in real surprise this time. ‘You are attracted to her? As in physically attracted?’
Dominic squirmed. He’d almost forgotten Marcus was the only one to know the truth about his aberration.
‘Yes, devil take her. She’s stripped me of that shield as well.’
Marcus grinned. ‘Well, well, well.’
‘Don’t sound so delighted. I’ll admit it’s a...a revelation. I finally understand what you idiots have been going on about. But it only makes everything a thousand times worse. Right now I damn well wish I’d stayed in my state of comfortable numbness.’
‘Well, I don’t. It just proves my theory.’
‘Heaven help me. Is there anything I can do to prevent you from sharing that theory?’
‘Not a thing. To be fair, it is more Lily’s theory. Apparently you really do trust Miss Phoebe Brimford.’
‘I told you I do.’
‘Hmm...’ Marcus sat down in the armchair opposite, twisting the stem of his wine glass between his fingers.
A surge of affection managed to make its way through the maelstrom of conflicting and confusing emotions roiling inside Dominic and he smiled and said impulsively, ‘I’m so damn glad you’re here, Marc. Whatever happens. I feel like I’ve been going a little mad trying to decide what to do.’
Marcus smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners, accentuating the silver at his temples.
‘Have you ever considered she might have left because she was the one not telling the truth?’
Dominic straightened. ‘What? Why would you say that? Do you know something about...?’ He broke off at a faint tinkling sound. Marcus turned his head as well.
‘Expecting visitors?’
‘No. Perhaps it’s Sebastian. He might have heard you’d arrived.’
The door opened and Emilio entered.
‘A lady to see you, Signor Domenico.’
‘A lady?’
‘She wears a veil like a widow. I tell her you are not at home. She says she will wait. She says it is important. She is English, but her Italian is most excellent. Simple clothes, but expensive cloth.’
Dominic’s heartbeat bounded ahead with each of Emilio’s disclosures. But it was Marcus who spoke.
‘Do show in this mystery woman, Emilio. We should not keep a lady waiting at this late hour.’
‘It’s not her. It can’t be. Why would it be her?’ Dominic said, trying to beat back hope.
‘Well, we shall soon know. Would you mind pouring me some more wine, Dominic? Keep yourself busy,’ Marcus added as Dominic glared at him. But he clenched his teeth and did as he was told, his mind working feverishly as he refilled Marcus’s glass.
Most likely it wasn’t her. He’d been accosted by enough women over the years; there was no need to start believing it was the one woman he wished to be accosted by.
When the door opened again he was as tense as a topsail. For a moment he stood there, facing the slim figure clad all in black, with a widow’s veil completely obscuring her face and hair. Something between a sigh and a cry echoed deep in his chest, nothing that either Marcus or Phoebe could hear. He saw her head turn from him to Marcus. And stop.
‘Good evening, Miss Brimford,’ Marcus said softly.
Phoebe seemed to waver and Dominic finally broke out of his stupor, heat flooding through him as he moved towards her.
‘Phoebe.’
She jerked her head back towards him, her hands rising and then falling back.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had guests.’
She sounded absurdly formal, but all Dominic cared about was that she was here. But now that his first shock of joy had swept over him, suspicion was surfacing.
‘I thought you’d sailed.’
‘I... We did. We had to turn back.’
‘Turn back... Phoebe, has something happened? To Milly?’ He caught her hand in his and raised her veil with the other. He might resent her dependence on her aunt, but the last thing he wanted was for her to lose the one person she truly loved. Her face was as pale as alabaster, her eyes marked by dark smudges. She looked lovely and miserable and his heart all but broke at the sight of her. ‘Phoebe, sweetheart, what is it?’
Her eyes glistened with moisture and she shut them and shook her head. ‘Nothing has happened to Milly. She has gone to a hotel. I came here. I shouldn’t have. You have guests. I should leave.’
‘Like hell you will. Don’t mind Marcus. Why did you come...? Hell, I don’t care why you came. You’re here. Let’s go somewhere—’
‘Just a moment, Dominic,’ Marcus interrupted softly. ‘Before you throw her over your shoulder and stalk off we should offer Miss Brimford a glass of wine.’
‘I will, Marc. But not here. Phoebe and I need to speak alone. I’ll talk with you later.’
‘No. I think it is best the three of us have a little chat and clear the air first. Don’t you, Miss Brimford?’
Phoebe gave a slight shake of her head, and in an instant all the emotion was stripped from her eyes and face. Marcus didn’t appear to notice.
‘Perhaps it might help if I mention I happened to encounter a mutual acquaintance of ours in Ravenna? He was on his way to Verona to meet with some people ahead of the Congress. We had an interesting tête-à-tête.’
‘What mutual acquaintance?’ Dominic demanded, but Marcus’s gaze was fixed on Phoebe. Dominic tightened his hold on Phoebe’s cold hand. ‘What is he talking about, Phoebe?’
‘I have no idea what he is referring to,’ she said coldly, and there was a new tone in her voice, a warning. ‘I think your friend must be mistaken. Perhaps he has confused me with someone else.’
Marcus smiled. ‘Oh, I think not. My memory for faces has always been exemplary. Even when I only see them for a few short moments in the office of the, ah, said acquaintance, six years ago.’
‘Exemplary is not infallible,’ Phoebe replied.
‘What acquaintance?’ Dominic demanded again. He knew Marcus would not make that claim unless he was certain. A whole new flavour of tension had joined the party inside him. He couldn’t stop himself from inspecting Phoebe, the cool, hard look that had replaced the tears and confusion. Adamant. This was the Phoebe he had seen all along underneath the different shades of her. The one who had survived God’s Flock.
He took her other hand and held them both in his. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Her gaze turned to him, a flicker of surprise in the depths of her golden eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at Marcus.
‘Whatever you’re playing at, Marc, it will have to wait. I want to speak with Phoebe now.’
‘Aren’t you at all curious to know the truth about the woman you say you wish to marry?’ Marcus challenged.
‘Right now I’m just happy she is back in Venice. All your grand revelations will have to wait for later. Come, Phoebe...’
He tried to guide her towards the door and to his surprise this time it was she who stopped him, her tone as defiant as she looked.
‘Don’t you want to know what your friend thinks he knows? He might know something terrible about me.’
He sighed. ‘There isn’t a damn thing he can say that will change my mind about wanting to marry you. You and Milly could be the carnival thief or assassins for all I care... Well, that’s not true. Both sound like rather risky occupations... What is so amusing?’ he asked as her eyes crinkled in sudden amusement.
‘I thought you were the thief.’
‘Well, I’m not. I gather you’re not either?’
She shook her head and then canted it. It felt as if she was actually looking at him for the first time since she’d entered. Her gaze moved over his face, softening, and the glaze of tears returned.
It had the same devastating effect on him as before, melting him inside into a hot, gooey mess even as it shot like quicksilver through his veins, raising the hair on his arms and nape as if he was being stalked by a rabid wolf, or being seduced by a siren. He pulled her hands to his chest, closing the distance between them.
‘I don’t care what you are, Phoebe, because I know you. Whatever the truth of it, I know you.’
‘Here, have some wine, Miss Brimford,’ Marcus interceded in a far lighter tone, approaching them with a glass in his hand. ‘I know you want to whisk her off, Dom, but first I really must insist on that chat.’
Phoebe took the glass, her confusion mirroring Dominic’s at Marcus’s change in tone.
‘Devil take you, Marcus. What are you playing at?’
But Marcus ignored him, smiling at Phoebe. ‘Did you really think Dominic was the carnival thief? Why?’
Phoebe moved away from both of them, cradling her wine glass. She cast a glance at Dominic and looked away almost guiltily. He smiled.
‘Yes, Phoebe, do tell Marcus why.’
‘Why? No reason other than that you are a consummate liar and actor who has all of Venice believing he is a drunkard and half the city believing you slept with the other half. Or perhaps because you have an annoying tendency to appear where and when you are least wanted and then leave by anything but the door. Oh, and because you lose far more money to Montillio’s than you could ever repay and...’ Her words petered out as her gaze switched from Dominic to Marcus. For the space of two breaths she just stared at him before she continued in a very different tone. ‘And your closest friend is Lord Sherbourne.’
‘That does rather put an interesting spin on matters, doesn’t it?’ Marcus said.
‘What has that to say to anything?’ Dominic asked. ‘As for the rest, Phoebe, it isn’t what it seems...’ He stopped, realising he had no right to disclose anything. But Phoebe didn’t even appear to have heard him. Her gaze had gone inwards, her face blank and pale. She drew a deep breath, let it out. Took another. He moved towards her, but she stepped back, wine sloshing out of the glass and onto the carpet as her gaze moved over him.
Marcus tutted. ‘Let her be for a moment, Dom. This was rather inevitable the moment she entered this room. You might be a trifle slow, but she was bound to work it out eventually.’
‘Work what out? Stop toying with me and tell me what you know, Marcus. Have you two met before?’
